


Left behind

by ca_te



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Matt felt when Mello left Wammy's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left behind

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 11 March 2010. Matt-centric

Matt stared at the screen, an irritating game over flashing in front of his eyes, as if the game was laughing at him, but he didn't care. They had called for dinner just few minutes before and the sound of the other boys and girls rushing down the stairs was still echoing in the corridor. Matt was sitting on the floor, back against his bed. The other bed in the room had been empty since when Mello had left. Roger had decided not to let anyone else in there, he could have forgotten how it was to be young, but he knew what being in pain meant.

Matt switched off the console and leaned back, his eyes closed, his red hair scattered against the mattress. He wasn't hungry, he just reached for the packet of cigarettes. He held the light stick of tobacco between his fingers, without opening his eyes. The paper of the cigarette was coarse under his fingertips and the strap of the goggles was tight around his forehead. He was not dumb, he had known since the beginning that smoking was no good, but he had decided to do it, and the reason was simple, it was the only path along which Mello wouldn't have walked. And, alone in the room he had shared with Mello for so many years, he thanked his fool decision, 'cause indeed having something which was only his, which he hadn't shared with Mello, meant that he could somehow remain sane. He had always known that he wasn't the strong type, he wasn't like Mello, nor he was detached as Near, he was the one who could potentially suffer more since the beginning, since the day his father had killed his mother and had run away, leaving him in Watari's hands.

Matt opened his eyes on the half-light which was filling the room and lit his cigarette. He bit the filter, teeth sinking in, a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembered the day he had discovered that Mello was gone, the blond had left so many things in their room. Matt had pulled Mello's clothes out of the closet throwing them on the floor, along with Mello's notebooks and pencils and pens, then he had fallen on his knees, among the sea of things that Mello had left behind. He was one of those things, nothing more. Abandoned.

Roger had made someone pack all Mello's belongings and bring them away. Matt had realized that Mello had brought the Bible with him, and he had cursed through his teeth at the thought that the blond had taken away a book and not him, at the thought that Mello had loved God more than he had ever loved Matt.

The ash of the cigarette fell on the back of his hand and Matt focused his attention on the present. He pressed the butt of the cigarette in the ash tray and quickly licked the burnt to ease the pain. He knew he shouldn't have, but he couldn't avoid to think about Mello's tongue, to remember the sensation of it on his skin. Mello had never told him something like "I love you", but Matt had always thought that behind Mello's touches, behind the nights they had spent sleeping together in the same bed, there had been a meaning. It hurt to see that probably it wasn't like that.

Matt sighed and got up, a little unstable on his legs. It was weird to be still there, the same place since when he was five years old, it somehow seemed as if he had grown too much and the room was smaller. Matt knew that indeed what disturbed him the most was not that the room was smaller, but that it was emptier. That he himself was emptier, without Mello's yells and hands and lips.

He leaned against the window, his gaze traveling towards the horizon, over the roofs of Winchester. He had tried, the God Mello believed in knew how much he had tried, to live his life on his own, to stop hoping, but sometimes his body would act just on his own, his hands touching him following the paths traced years before by Mello's hands, his eyes traveling with hope outside of the window, down the courtyard till the gate hoping to spot golden hair and black leather.

Matt had tried to fill in the void, but it just wouldn't go away, the desire to see Mello once again, to feel him once again.


End file.
